Inheritance
by Dame
Summary: Stiles is a Veela. Enough said. Polyamorous!Stiles


It started when he was just nine years old. They were under the covers, Scott pretty much lived in their house because he would just be there without giving a notice to the Sheriff. They would raid the fridge, do their homeworks together, and then there's the occasional sleepovers and it was one of those days.

It was midnight and they had the flashlight on that Scott brought from their house. Under the covers, they broke his father's rule as every second passed after midnight. It was silly how they could be rebellious and nerdy at the same time because they were taking the risk to be punished just to read comics.

Then there was a brief kissing scene in the end, just an innocent one. He pretty much just grimaced at the image for a while and then there's Scott who was giggling at him as he made a face.

"Why do people even kiss? It's disgusting," he whispered to Scott as he blushed a deep shade of red.

"I don't know. . . because it feels good?" his best friend shrugged and then there was a moment of silence.

He doesn't know what kind of force pushed his best friend to do it but it happened so quickly. He doesn't have the faintest idea that it would actually happen and to say that it did in his childhood was just insane.

Scott placed a chaste kiss full on Stiles's lips so fast that he didn't had the time to react while it was happening. It was so innocent but he knew at that time that something was wrong.

He yelped and backed away from his best friend until he was leaning back on the headboard.

"Why would you do that?" he said loudly than he intended to.

"I'm sorry," panic smeared his face quickly and he continued apologizing until he took another pause. "You do know that they talk about you, right? Kids in our class would tell me that they have a crush on you. A few girls and some guys give me chocolates and stuff to give them to you and I don't because I hate people getting all over you!"

Before Scott was aware of it, he was already screaming and footsteps were heard outside the room. He knew it was his dad who was at the door by then that opened the lights and he narrowed his eyes at the sudden change.

"What's happening here?"

"N-nothing," Stiles muttered under his breath.

They were still given a sermon for it and they were forced to go to sleep. After that, what happened was never brought in a conversation between them again.

Then as they grew older, people seemed to slowly notice Stiles. Whether it was a small nod from the guys or a flirtatious greeting from the group of girls, it was still the kind of attention that he didn't expect. It's not like he did anything to gain it.

In 3rd grade, his feeling blossomed for Lydia and he wasn't thinking clearly when he told Scott, because Scott was the worst person to keep a secret. It spread like wildfire in the rumor mill because the girls in third grade are as fast as lightning when it came to rumors. Then it reached Lydia. He doesn't know what to expect. Maybe by then, the kids in his classes would start making fun of him. Then, they don't, because the day after that, Lydia Martin kissed him in front of everyone in the hallway and asked him if he could be her boyfriend.

Then, there were consequences that he wasn't aware of.

Scott and Lydia always had a competition against each other 24/7. It was frustrating to see them arguing endlessly. They would glare daggers at each other and he always had to be in the middle. They would compete for his attention. Whenever Scott drapes an arm around his shoulder, Lydia would give him a kiss. His best friend would get jealous despite the idea that he stole Stiles's first kiss.

He asked his dad if he could bring his girlfriend over and his dad looked at him with wide eyes and panicked for a while. Which confused him. He should have been proud, not worried, like most dads in the television who teaches their son how to sweep a girl off her feet.

He restricted him from bringing a girl over, even guys, except Scott of course. He trusted Scott like he's almost family.

"Why not?" he exclaimed as he groaned, frustrated at his dad.

"You'll learn why," it was a tone that was almost secretive, mysterious. He discovered that he'd be having sex ed when he was in high school, but at that time, his tone wasn't indicating that kind of thing. It was like he was hiding something.

It wasn't even a serious relationship at all. It was only horseplay, two foolish kids who shared a few innocent kisses. And his class clearly shared his thoughts because the majority of them still kept sending him pathetic love letters at valentine's day. It was a miracle to witness when Scott and Lydia agreed at something, and it was burning those letters.

Then the day he dreaded happened.

"Stiles, you've got to choose between us," the question just popped out of the blue one day. "It's me or him."

As a popular girl, Lydia has a reputation to uphold. She needed a boyfriend who would look like a lost puppy following her around, not someone who has ADHD who couldn't give her enough attention and has a best friend who follows him around everywhere they went. She doesn't need a third-wheeler such as Scott.

"You can't do that!" Scott exclaimed at her. "You can't put him in that position!"

Scott always knew the best of him. He always knew the best for Stiles, always there by his side, a shoulder to cry on, his first kiss. While Lydia was the kind of girl that she was at that moment. She craved for attention, she puts on a facade in front of people, always had her chin up, and Stiles looked up to her. But at the moment, she was ready to let go of Stiles that easily if he chose his best friend over her. Someone who thinks like that is also someone that could easily leave you behind.

He wasn't ready to let go of Scott. He wouldn't let go of him just for a middle school fling. Maybe. . . maybe if they all grew up, Lydia would finally understand. He knew she would always be the girl that he adored somehow. He would always look out for her in a distance and she would hate him because of choosing Scott, but he trusted her to understand just why he chose Scott.

It was true that Lydia left him and Scott stood by his side.

Around high school, things became serious between them. Sleepovers became a time to sneak some kisses because his dad always got home late, kisses became makeout sessions. They tried to be together at school as much as possible, that was why he joined lacrosse. It's not that he liked it.

"I just want a way to keep up with you," Scott told him at lunch one day. "You're popular, Stiles, people are drooling over you and whenever I look at Lydia, she leers at me like she's going to snatch you away from me again."

He found it amusing that Scott still gets jealous at her despite Lydia having a boyfriend already.

So, he was forced to join the team.

It was around that time that he finds that something's different about him again. It was the feeling when he got love letters, chocolates, it was the feeling when Lydia just suddenly kissed him, when Scott gave him his first kiss, when his father didn't allow him to invite Lydia to come over.

It was a weekend when he suddenly got tired of cooking and ditched his dad's groceries for a while. He went to some random fast food restaurant and craved for some curly fries and nuggets. It was a long line, full of families still bonding even though it was already 7 pm.

He got into a line and not long after that, a stranger went behind him. He noticed that the other set of people to his left obviously has the shorter line and got suspicious. He tried to dismiss the idea but there was something off about it.

He reached for his wallet but it was empty. He began muttering curses as he frantically searched for it in his jeans but it wasn't doing him any good as the cashier looked at him expectantly. He was about to endure the embarrassment of cancelling what he ordered when suddenly the man behind him leaned in the counter.

"I'll be paying for him," the stranger told him and he somehow felt uncomfortable being someone that he doesn't know who just suddenly barged in and decided to be kind to him. He knows where this is going.

While they waited for the cashier to bring him his dinner, the stranger beamed at him and Stiles could see those eyes clouded with lust.

"I have a boyfriend," he stated.

He uttered it nonchalantly. After it came out of his mouth, he was suddenly shocked of what he just said. The words rolled out of his tongue like it was casual and natural. It's not like Scott told him that they were official. . . right? Or was he just assuming it and the idea was one-sided. He hopes not.

As he expected, the smile faltered. But it was still weirdly there.

"That's okay, sweetheart," the stranger winked at him, oblivious at the frown that Stiles was giving him. "What a person doesn't know won't hurt him."

He flinched at the words. How could someone be that desperate? He found himself being grateful about the attention that he gets from everyone on a daily basis.

"Sorry but you're not the first one that I'll be ditching today," he snapped and he hurriedly grabbed his dinner and tried to walk out of the scene.

The man in front of him aggressively gripped his wrist and he felt his heart skipping a beat. This is not going to end well.

"Hey!" surprisingly, it came from another guy.

He internally rolled his eyes. The guy was at his age. This is getting too cliche now. This is where a hero enters the scene and takes advantage of the damsel in distress, right? Already happened at his school.

"Let's not get too handsy there."

"Stay out of it."

The next thing he knew, they were throwing punches at each other. How could something so casual ends up being so complex? He only wanted some deep fried things and now two guys are fighting for his attention. It was like Scott and Lydia again.

Things got worse. Rapidly worse that the police was a necessity.

And his dad finds him there. And he was nervous as fuck. After Stiles told him what happened there was a strong sign of recognition that came across his face.

"Dad, what's happening? I know you've been keeping something from me, so just spill, you know that kind of thing is useless to me," Stiles told him.

"We'll talk about it later."

The burning curiosity was poking his mind simultaneously through their ride home.

The hunger that was settling in his stomach was gone. He set the fries and nuggets aside and he waited for his dad to talk. Just one word.

His dad took a deep breath and pinched the bridge his nose. It was like he was giving Stiles The Talk again.

"Do you ever feel like people just give you so much attention than needed without putting effort into it?"

"Y-yeah. . . how do you. . ."

"It's because you're special, Stiles. I know I told you that before but I'm not sugarcoating things for you. You're a different kind of special," he looked into Stiles eyes and a wave of panic hit him. He was questioning the point of the conversation. "You inherited something from your mother, Stiles. There's a reason why people are attracted to you, why you're some sort of magnet for people's attention."

"Dad, you're starting to freak me out," he said. He gripped the end of his shirt and tapped his foot repeatedly out of being so nervous. "Did you hit your head while on duty?"

"It's not the time for that, Stiles," his dad muttered, and he was dead serious. Speaking of death, his father looks at him like his life depended on the conversation that they were having. "What I'm saying is. . . you're not, so to speak, entirely human."

"I know there was something wrong with me," he muttered under his breath.

"It's not that bad, Stiles. Some people would kill for this ability," his dad told him. "Your mother is a veela. They are magical creatures that has beauty in their genes, aside from that, they have the power to attract and lure people."

"And you're just telling me this because. . .?"

"Because being one is dangerous," his dad finally blurted out. "If you know how to control it, you could actually bend people's mind, manipulate them, even take their own will out of their system. But without control, you're just a piece of meat in the middle of a pack of wolves, waiting to be. . . devoured."

"And by devoured you mean. . ."

"Yes, Stiles," he sighed. "I mean the birds and the bees."

"Wow."

"Yes, wow. Exactly."

"So, if I'm a. . . veela, does that mean that what people feel toward me is just a part of this magic voodoo thing? None of them are actually real?"

"It's not exactly like that," his dad frowned. "When your mom told me, I ask her that same question. She said that being a veela is having people notice you in an oblivious manner, it is up to the person to stimulate an attraction toward you. There's a difference though, if you want someone to be attracted to you. But if you're clueless about it, then you have no control about that person's feelings."

He sighed in relief, remembering his moments with Scott. They were real.

"Son, this is not something to be afraid of," he grasped Stiles's shoulder for comfort. "I know someone in this town who helped your mother before."

"There's someone else like my mom? Like me?"

"Not exactly," he felt the spark of hope diminishing. "He's a druid. His name is Alan Deaton."


End file.
